


know when to hold ‘em/know when to fold ‘em

by SHACKLEFORD



Series: Poker, Strip [1]
Category: Charmed (TV 2018)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-05
Updated: 2020-02-05
Packaged: 2021-02-28 06:20:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,336
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22569259
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SHACKLEFORD/pseuds/SHACKLEFORD
Summary: Harry and Macy play a game of strip poker. Re-uploaded!
Relationships: Harry Greenwood/Macy Vaughn
Series: Poker, Strip [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1623940
Comments: 4
Kudos: 25





	know when to hold ‘em/know when to fold ‘em

How it happened, Macy wasn’t sure anymore. Why it happened? She wouldn’t admit it, but in some small (but honestly huge) way, she willed it to happen, put her hand on the steering wheel and drove right off a cliff into territory she had never explored. She never partied, rarely drank socially until she met her sisters, and had certainly never played any game that involved stripping. She had work to do, okay? She was too busy to even consider indulging in a simple game of Solitaire.

But after a large glass of red wine, Macy was bored, and had gone out on a wild limb by suggesting to Harry a game she had seen during so many late night teen movie binges: strip poker.

And Harry? He had gone along with it, never blinked an eye or questioned her decision. If anything, he rose to the challenge impressively, daring her to best him at a game he had only very recently learned how to play. It was simple enough, a balance between luck and strategy; Mel had taught him plenty while whispering instructions into his ear as he played the demon in that dive bar. 

Macy was curious, both to see what he had learned and exactly how far they could push this. Were they brave enough? The alcohol was making her reckless. “You got yourself into this,” Macy muttered to herself while rummaging around the Vera-Vaughn-Greenwood booze stash for another bottle of wine. “Now there’s only one way out.” She located the hidden bottle of red and, with a wild sense of booze fueled determination, she (violently) jammed the corkscrew into the bottle, twisted it, and released the cork with a loud pop. She tossed the cork onto the kitchen table and made her way back into the living room, watching as Harry downed the rest of his glass like he was dying of thirst. 

“Can I top you off?” she said with a wink that sparked a faint blush on Harry’s cheeks.

Despite his nerves, Harry steeled himself and put on his best poker face. Holding out the wine glass he replied, “You may,” looking Macy directly in her eyes. She poured them both a generous helping, while somehow never breaking eye contact.

After they both took rather large sips, Macy picked up the cards, “I’ll deal.” Harry nodded in approval. 

He watched as she delicately shuffled the cards and divided them. They each received two cards face down, and then Macy pulled three more cards face up and in the center of the coffee table. She took another sip from her glass and said, “You’re the oldest, so you get the big blind this round.”

Harry raised an eyebrow. “Oh, so that’s the type of game we’re playing?”

“Age before beauty,” Macy smirked, swirling the glass in her hand. 

Harry placed two chips beside the three face up cards, and Macy followed quickly with her single chip. “Ready?” 

Harry nodded, and the game was on. Macy picked up her cards, trying her best to not reveal her hand. Truthfully, she had only played this game a few times. A couple of times were with her dad when she was a child and they had used nickels and pennies; he definitely let her win. Another time was at a charity poker tournament at Hilltowne University, where she lost a large sum of actual real money despite having more than enough help from Galvin. But Harry didn’t need to know that; in his eyes, she was the Texas Hold ‘Em expert (why did she have to say expert?), and her skills were “unmatched in the greater Hilltowne area”. As she looked at her crappy set of cards, she found herself wishing she knew how to keep her big mouth shut. 

“Macy?” Harry was prompting her, a calm, collected look on his face. ‘Gods is he attractive,’ Macy thought before she could stop herself. ‘Don’t look at his face! Focus!’ 

“Sorry, just thinking about my strategy,” she quipped, taking another sip from her glass to disguise her nerves. She flipped over the fourth card, laying it next to the first three. 

“I raise,” Harry said, tossing in a chip.

“I call.” She placed her chip. “Ready?”

Harry nodded, and she flipped over the last card, nestling it beside the others. 

“I raise, again,” Harry smirked, sipping from his glass. 

“And I call. Again,” Macy smirked back. “Show ‘em, Greenwood.”

Harry flipped over his cards, laying them straight. “I believe I have a pair of 7’s. Now, show yours.”

Macy couldn’t help but blush when her thoughts instantly took a dirty turn. If she had been smarter, she would’ve simply finished her glass, stripped off her pajamas, and beckoned Harry to bed to ‘show hers’. Instead, she had to tease it out, make it almost painful like this slow dance they had been locked in for months now. The thing is though, she hated to lose. She tossed her cards on the table with a frown. “I only have a pair of 2’s.” 

Harry waggled his eyebrows at her, a sly almost shit eating grin emerging on his face. “Well then, Miss Vaughn, I do believe you know the rules.”

Macy sighed and hung her head. “Yes, Mr. Greenwood. I did consent to the terms of our game.” With that, she removed one bright blue sock and tossed it over her shoulder with a laugh. 

Harry returned her smile, and picked up the cards to reshuffle and deal. “Beauty before age this round, I believe.”

He dealt the cards, set up the flop, and the two placed their blinds. Macy glanced at her cards and tried to hide her grin. A pair of aces! She knew that meant something; aces were always high. “I raise!”

Harry nodded, “I call,” and tossed in another chip. He turned the fourth card. Macy checked, and he responded in kind. The last card had Macy nearly screaming, but she stuffed it down with a wide smile. 

“Show ‘em, Miss Vaughn,” Harry smirked, turning his cards and revealing a three of a kind.

“I believe you better call the Tanner family, because I’ve got a full house!” Macy crowed triumphantly.

Harry was grinning at her and shaking his head. “I have no idea what that reference even means, but good hand nonetheless.”

“Less talking, more stripping.” Macy took a generous sip of her wine, hiding her bravery behind the glass. 

Harry sighed and shook his head. Slowly, almost purposefully slowly like he knew exactly what this teasing would do to her, he began to unbutton his crisp, white oxford shirt. Why he was still in a dress shirt and slacks at nearly midnight, Macy didn’t know or understand, but all care and sense went out the window when he peeled the shirt off, gingerly folded it, and placed it on the couch cushion beside him. He was still unfortunately covered, but what was revealed was a nearly sheer and tight, ribbed tank top. Macy’s mouth instantly watered at the sight, and she had to busy herself with the cards to keep from staring. He was pleasantly muscled, not too ripped, but not scrawny either with the tiniest pudge of stomach and oh god...Macy blushed bright red when she realized she could see his nipples through the tank top, and how badly she wanted to lean over and bite them through the fabric. 

“Are you alright?” Harry asked all calm and collected, not at all like he was entertaining her like some male stripper at a club.

“Nip-uh...I mean, nothing!” Macy choked, wine sloshing about in her glass as she shakily returned it to the coffee table. She needed to get a grip, but lately her resolve was slipping; steeling herself around Harry had become an exercise in total control, an exercise she was quickly hating. Macy was controlled, dedicated, unshakeable, but still she found herself wondering how easily that tank top would rip between her fingers.

“Macy?” Harry waved a hand in front of her. “Too much wine?”

She snapped out of her revere with a shake. “I don’t think there’s such a thing. My deal?”

Harry nodded, a slow smile creeping up his face and crinkling the corners of his eyes, as if he knew exactly why she was so distracted. Or maybe he was genuinely happy to be here. Macy couldn’t keep speculating because that meant continuing to gawk at the man before her when she should be kicking his ass in this silly game she roped them into. 

She shuffled the cards with minimal grace and quickly dealt them out, set up the flop, and put in her single blind before Harry had a chance to say anything else. Focus was the name of the game. She kept her eyes on her cards for the entire round, memorizing each and every spade and heart on her two cards, barely even noticing when Harry plopped his hand on the table in triumph. 

“Oh,” she blinked, “did I lose?”

Harry held out a hand. “Your other sock, please.”

She pulled off her remaining sock and presented it to him. “Here you are, good sir. I have to warn you my feet get sweaty.”

Harry cringed and released the sock to the floor. “That explains the dampness. Here I thought you managed to step in a puddle.”

“It’s not that bad!” Macy put her hands firmly on her hips. “I at least shower everyday!”

Harry raised an eyebrow. “Are you implying I don’t?”

“Well, no...you actually smell quite nice most of the time,” she said before her brain could catch up with her mouth. Whatever. She ran with it, ignoring his satisfied smirk as she thrust the deck in his direction. “For that puddle comment, we’ll make it age again.”

“Delightfully smelling age, I might add,” Harry said, shuffling the deck with nimble fingers that distracted Macy once more. She really needed to stop drinking around Harry, and made a mental note to remind her future self after this mess she’d gotten herself into had passed. 

The cards were dealt, the flop was set, and the blinds were placed. Macy bit the inside of her cheek to hide her frustration as she looked at her hand: another lousy set of cards. Before the fifth card could be placed, she folded, unwilling to lose any more chips to Harry who kept doubling the pot. 

Harry grinned triumphantly, and Macy found herself wanting to simultaneously wipe the smirk off his face and wanting to kiss it to know how he tasted. “You know the rules, Macy.”

She rolled her eyes. “Fine, fine.” She stood up from her seat, blushing furiously as she hooked her thumbs in her pajama bottoms and pulled them off, kicking them behind her with little ceremony. She swore she heard Harry suck in a breath, but she avoided his gaze as she returned to her seat. When she finally got the courage to look up, his jaw had gone slightly slack, eyes glazed over with a look she had seen a few times before. That Look had previously appeared when she was dressed up to go out on the town with Mel and Maggie, but not like this, dressed in only her least favorite (but most comfortable) gray underwear and pajama top. Heat began pooling in her stomach and she squirmed in her seat as he continued to appraise her. 

Finally, Harry broke the silence. “You know, Macy,” he said in a low voice, “we can stop at any time.”

She rolled her eyes and snatched the cards from his hand. “And let you win? Not on my life, Greenwood.”

“That’s my girl,” he said, so softly she almost missed it. His voice sent another spiral of pleasure down her spine, and she needed to focus! ‘Reign it in, Vaughn,’ she thought to herself as she shuffled the cards with more force than necessary, the sound of the deck slapping together seeming to echo in the growing heat of the living room. 

Once more, the cards were dealt. She set up the flop in the center of the table, placed her blind, and looked at her cards, trying her damndest to avoid getting caught in Harry’s gaze. She could feel the heat of it boring into her, making her hands shake as she raised the pot little by little. Why was she torturing herself like this? This impossibly slow burn that made her knees weak? She forced her focus onto the cards, and was surprised to discover that she had an actual good hand. When the final card was turned and the bets were placed, she slapped her cards on the table and cheered, “That’s a flush, Greenwood!”

Harry ran a hand through his hair and tossed his cards down. “You win. I’ve got absolute rubbish.”

Macy grinned wildly and beckoned at him with her pointer finger. She was beyond excited to see what else he had to show her. Harry flushed down to his neck and chest, and ‘Christ, how far does that blush go?’ she wondered with a feverish need. Harry stood up slowly and unbuckled his belt. He was looking everywhere but at her, and she could only hone in on his fingers as they pulled his belt from its loops, unbuttoned, and then, finally, unzipped his pants. They fell to the floor and he stepped out of them, before carefully folding the pants and placing them on top of his shirt. As he sat, Macy started to giggle, intoxicated by the wine and the visual of Harry in what appeared to be perfectly pressed plaid boxer shorts. 

“What?” Harry asked, eyebrows furrowing. 

“Do you iron everything?” Macy gasped in between laughs. 

Harry chuckled softly and shook his head. “Wrinkles denote laziness, Macy.”

Macy nearly keeled over at that. “Oh god, you’re an old man! Practically a grandpa!”

“I’m not that old,” Harry scoffed with a slight frown. “Just an old soul trapped in a young body that manages to keep up with you three young women everyday!”

Macy quieted and smiled at him, softening. “You know I’m only joking. I can see from here that you’re still pretty spry for your age.”

Harry’s frown instantly flipped into that smirk, the one that always made her dizzy with want. “And what does that mean?”

“I-uh…,” Macy could feel her cheeks warming, “You just look...good, Harry. Strong, but not too muscular. Fit, but you’re also incredibly intelligent. I’ve always loved the combination of brains and brawn. You’re not elderly, but wisened.”

He seemed satisfied with that answer and, mercifully, he picked up the deck and began to shuffle. Macy chugged the rest of her wine, cheeks still burning from her uncomfortable outburst. She wanted to tell him that she wondered what the corded muscles of his arms would feel like flexed beneath her hands; or if the contrast of the shadow on his jaw against her face or, preferably, between her thighs, would give her goosebumps; or if his hands were as strong as they looked, if his fingers tasted - 

“Macy? Your bet?”

She snapped out of her thoughts which had rapidly taken a hard left turn down to the realm of her nighttime fantasies (the ones she kept out of her journal and locked away in her mind), and plopped in a couple chips. Harry responded with his own call, the fourth card was flipped, more chips were placed, and then the fifth card. Macy was laser focused, firmly (but vainly) trying to keep her mind out of the gutter despite the object of her love and lust sitting in his underwear across from her. Gods she still wanted to lean over and bite at his chest leaving marks along the way. How would he sound as she sucked a bite on his stomach? ‘Focus! Focus, Vaughn!’

She placed her last bet on the table with more force than necessary. Harry followed with a gentler touch and a slightly raised eyebrow. 

“Ready?” 

Macy nodded, and the two flipped their cards simultaneously. Harry revealed a four of a kind, but Macy, much to her surprise, had a straight flush. 

“And that’s how you play poker!” she cheered, throwing her hands in the air. “You know the rules, Mr. Greenwood.” 

“Yes, ma’am, I do,” Harry replied softly, bowing his head. Something inside Macy began to snap at that, the almost reverent tone he took was pushing her too close to the edge of the unknowable, a territory she had never crossed but only entertained in the wane hours of the evening when she was imagining what sounds he would make as she played with him, how he would feel deeply inside of her. Slowly, so painfully slowly, Harry peeled off the tank top and revealed himself to her. She gasped aloud at the sight of his chest and torso, which was dotted with freckles and a myriad of scars ranging from tiny punctures to one large, deep slash on his right side. 

“Not the prettiest sight, I know,” he murmured. 

Macy shook her head fiercely. “The opposite, Harry,” she said. She wanted to reach across the coffee table and grab his hand, but he had laced his fingers together firmly on his lap in a clear sign of insecurity. “You’re so brave, so strong. After all we’ve been through now, I can only imagine you went through so much more before you came to us.” She took a deep breath, throwing herself off the ledge. “I think they’re beautiful.”

Harry raised his head and quirked an eyebrow. “Really?” Macy nodded firmly, once, and he gave her a soft smile, his spine straightening at the compliment. 

“Well then,” he coughed, choking back something Macy wanted to uncover, “shall we continue?”

“Yes. I do believe I was in the middle of kicking your ass,” she grinned. 

“We will see about that, Miss Vaughn,” Harry shot back. 

As she began to shuffle the cards, the air suddenly left her lungs: her wine-drunk decision making had caught up with her, and Macy realized that they were nearing the end of their little game. Harry only had his boxers on, having forgone socks, and Macy was down to her underwear, bra, and pajama top. If the cards kept playing in her favor, well...Macy gulped loudly and dealt the cards.

They were silent through the next round. Macy wondered if Harry had realized the same thing she had, but his face remained impassive as he doubled, then tripled the pot. Macy kept at it, knowing her cards were worthless, but valiantly hoping his excessive betting was a guise he was hiding behind. As the final card was flipped, Macy sighed. Nothing begets nothing. She tossed her cards on the table. “Show ‘em, Greenwood.” 

Harry grinned and slowly revealed his cards: a straight. She had clearly lost this round. Before Harry could prompt her, she slowly unbuttoned her pajama top feeling Harry’s eyes on her as she teased him, first revealing one shoulder and then the other, before finally letting the garment fall to the ground. 

“I wish I had worn my prettier bra tonight but…,” she shrugged, still avoiding Harry’s gaze. 

Silence answered her. She was all warm and tingly, nervous beyond anything, and refusing to look up from the table. Suddenly, she felt hands on her shoulders making her jump, but a voice shushed her, gentle lips against her ear. 

“Macy, I…,” Harry took a deep breath, choosing his words carefully. “You look beautiful. I want…”

“What do you want, Harry?” she turned, finally looking him in the eyes, and nearly gasped at the contact: his pupils were blown wide with lust, something heavy and deep simmering beneath the surface. Their slow dance had made her turned on beyond all reason, and Harry’s own obvious arousal sent another deep wave of pleasure thundering through her body. “Please?”

“I want to take this pretty bra off of you myself.”

**Author's Note:**

> I deleted this for a multitude of silly reasons, but have decided to re-upload thanks to a post made by Hacyaddict117 :)


End file.
